Discipline
by Esca Madeline
Summary: He always thought that the academy needed more discipline. Karl-centric, one-shot, Prefect fic


Disclaimer: Bully is owned by Rockstar.

A/N: Yes, I'm back. Karl is a prefect no one gives any attention to, which saddens me because he's supposedly the least corrupted of the four prefects.

**Episode: Discipline  
**

**I.**

When Karl stepped out from the inside of the Boys' Dorm and onto the concrete pavement, he swallowed an aspirin, sucking his mouth in at the familiar, bitter taste, and decided to take a long, meditative walk around the school.

"I'm going to find some troublemakers today."

--

**II.**

He always thought that the academy needed more discipline.

Karl thought this whenever he caught another scuffle between two students, usually between Preps and Greasers, usually between Jocks and Nerds. He thought this constantly as he threw himself into the animalistic fray and pulled the masses of bodies apart, blocking punches with one hand while methodically picking the students apart with his other.

_Go for the joints, an area where one hit can render the delinquent helpless. The less hits, the less struggles, the better._

He didn't pick and choose his battles, didn't have favorites in the school because when he took the prefect position from Dr. Crabblesnitch, it meant something at the time. He was supposed to guard all, protect all, and _punish_ all who broke the order in the school, something that Edward Seymour the Third constantly seemed to forget when he took the slips of dirty money from his Preppy friends.

He also didn't just pummel the students until they were half conscious. That was brutal, cruel, and how Seth Kolbe handled things. While Karl didn't hold any hatred for the Punishment Prefect, he could feel something dangerous, almost psychotic about him. He knew when things crossed the line, and when he saw Seth beating a boy half his size for _littering_, Karl knew that Seth was so over the line that there was no ruler in the world that could measure the distance of the Punishment Prefect's insanity.

"He lacks discipline," he would say to Crabblesnitch, only to have the old man scowl and shake his head in disagreement.

"Mr. Kolbe is one of the finest students in the academy," the headmaster would argue back. "He has one of the highest averages and is quite possibly one of the strongest in the physical field. He has had no records of bullying in the past. Why would he do this now?"

And Karl would bite his tongue, preventing the slew of curses from escaping his lips. He knew the old man was blind and would continue to be blind until the end of days, but Karl knew better. He wouldn't create a scene—he had too much discipline for that.

So he kept his misgivings about Seth quiet, holding it all inside while showing a calm face towards Edward and the fourth prefect, Max MacTavish.

Unlike his opinions of Edward and Seth, Karl actually liked Max to a degree. The boy seemed to be the only other person in the group who had respect for law and order. However, Karl refused to believe Max MacTavish's "guilty until proven innocent" methods. While he had disdain for those who caused trouble, Karl realized that Max's methods were dangerously close to Seth's way of thinking, and it didn't take long for the black prefect to figure out that _this_ was why the two were best friends.

In the end, he kept his distance from Max as well. His sanity needed it; his discipline demanded it.

"This school needs more discipline."

--

**III.**

Control.

His life revolved around it, revolved around staying calm, remaining focused, and being the straight man that people could go to when they clearly had nowhere else to go. But he wouldn't be excessive. He was neutral, always waiting for the right moment to make an accurate move.

He applied this ideology to all aspects of his life.

Ever since he had been a child, his parents had taught him to keep his emotions and desires in check. It hadn't been _that_ hard for him to learn—his mother was a judge and his father was the governor. Of course he would have learned their ideals even if they hadn't schooled him, because he was exposed to their lifestyle twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.

_Keep your poker face on, son, _his father had said to him in hushed tones during a dinner party for his re-election. _If they ask you something you don't want to answer, don't let them know you're uncomfortable. Don't let them know you're scared._

And so Karl had learned to control his expressions on the outside, but his mother had taken this control to the next level.

_Life will throw difficult choices in your path_, she said to him solemnly as she reviewed the newest murder case on her desk. _Sometimes it will be hard to make the right choice when you're overwhelmed with emotion._

He had asked his mother how he could make a decision under those circumstances, and she replied with a dry laugh.

_Why, don't you know, son? You have to detach yourself from the problem. See the situation as if you were looking at it from far away, where the consequences can't touch you. Don't let personal emotions get in the way. Then, you will be able to make the most rational decision._

He had taken her words, and his father's, to heart.

"I will not tolerate indiscipline."

--

**III.**

When Karl entered his room, he felt as if he was wading through an endless wall of hot steam. The air was thick, almost unbreathable.

Summer was such a cruel beast.

He opened his closet door, giving nothing more than a cursory glance at his prefect uniform as he tossed his books and bags inside. He shut the door again firmly, closing off any uneasy feelings that lingered in his mind, shutting out all thoughts of his prefect duties, of the pain he had felt in his nearly broken leg earlier in the day. Damn Hopkins, and damn that Russell boy as well. He had only been doing his job.

He stripped as he headed towards the bathroom, leaving a trail of clothes behind.

Karl stopped at the bathroom door, frowning when he realized that his clean laundry was in a pile on the floor where he had dumped it the other day.

_Screw folding clothes and putting them away_, he thought furiously, his control suddenly slipping for the briefest of moments. _Why bother when I'm only going to wear them, anyway? It's pointless. All of this is pointless, just like Hopkins and his pointless vendetta…_

But the thoughts vanished as quickly as they appeared, and Karl found himself sorting through the pile, mindlessly folding shirts and pants and smoothing out the creases in his white dress shirts.

Discipline. He couldn't lose what he had spent years building up, not over one bad encounter with that new, brash, inconsiderate boy known as Jimmy Hopkins.

_Discipline. Don't ever lose it._

When he finished folding everything and put his clothes away in his closet, he found a t-shirt and shorts and tugged them on, sitting down on the bed to pull on his socks. He wiped his forearm across his sweaty brow as he tied the laces on his sneakers, and by the time he was fully dressed his shirt was clinging to him, the underarms damp with sweat.

He wanted to take a walk, but it was too hot. Strangely, it just made him want to go out even more. He ran a hand down his injured leg, once again cursing the new boy and his giant oaf of a friend. Damn the pain he felt in his leg earlier today, and damn what Seth said about his injury being his own fault. He wanted to feel adrenalin rushing through his veins, wanted to feel his heart pumping until was about to burst, wanted to run until his lungs were dry and tight from lack of air.

But he had to settle for a walk. A walk would help him regain the control he had lost today, and possibly soothe the anger within his chest.

After locking his room in the dorm, he let himself out and felt the warm, night air hit his sweaty skin. It was refreshing, exhilarating, and for a moment he indulged himself in a lazy stretch, lifting his arms high in the air and locking his hands together as he arched his back. He looked up at the clear night sky, feeling his ribs pull, his spine crack, his shoulder joints aching pleasantly. He breathed in, letting the humid air reach the very bottom of his lungs, and then exhaled slowly, relaxing.

When he stood tall again, he wiped his forehead with the hem of his shirt, letting out another slow breath. He didn't need to worry about patrolling tonight. Max promised to take his shift due to his bad leg.

He slowly started to walk towards town, wincing as he limped every other step.

"Good lord," he murmured. "I appear to have been knocked down."

--

**II.**

He had come across the Yum Yum Market several times in the past, had seen the smiling Asian man behind the register and had simply offered the usual, "Good day," or in this case, "Good evening."

But that smile…he should have known better. He should have _recognized _the smile.

"Hello, sir!" Angie Ng greeted happily, carrying a basket of apples past him as she proceeded to stock the produce on the shelves. "I didn't expect to see you here!"

"I could say the same, Ms. Ng," Karl replied politely. He had to remind himself that he was not in school, so he couldn't very well ignore her as he usually would. He was a civilian outside academy grounds, a civilian who was also the governor's son and had to maintain a good appearance for his father's sake. He had to stay disciplined. "I didn't think you worked here."

The girl laughed, giving the black prefect a smile that was identical to the Asian man behind the register. "Well, it's easy to get a job here if your uncle's the storeowner. I work here during Friday nights and weekends."

"I see." Karl turned his gaze towards the chilled drinks to the side, his eyes resting on a bottle of water. This conversation bored him—he didn't care about the private lives of students his _own _age, much less the lives of the underclassmen. Yet he couldn't think of any way to break off the chat without seeming rude. "You must be very dedicated to work and have such good grades, Ms. Ng. I heard you were on the honor roll again."

"You saw?" Angie squealed, her face turning a bright crimson as Karl handed the bottle of water to the Asian man, along with several bills. "Gosh, sir! I didn't think you knew! I-I didn't think any of the prefects would care, really—not that I'm saying you don't care! I mean—"

"It's quite alright," Karl replied with a smile, although his voice became slightly gruff. Curse the foul reputation Seth and Edward had laid out for him and Max…they were ruining the honor the prefect position once held. "I know that many of the students think little of me and the other prefects."

"Oh no, sir!" Angie shook her head wildly. "I think that you and Max are wonderful! You two take the time to listen to us when we're in trouble!"

Karl resisted the urge to snort. "It's our job, Ms. Ng. Nothing more, nothing less. We wait for the trouble to appear, and we strike the troublemakers when the time is right. That is our duty as a prefect."

"Neutral polarity," the Asian man said suddenly, rubbing his chin in thought as he gave Karl a solemn look. "Earth is a buffer, or an equilibrium achieved when the polarities cancel each other. One who waits and listens for the right time to take action…"

"What are you talking about?' Karl asked, becoming slightly alarmed.

"Nothing." The man smiled again and this time Karl thought he saw double, as the look on the man's face was completely identical to Angie's. As he handed Karl his water, the man said cheerfully, "When you have the time, please come again!"

"Yes, sir!" Angie added with a grin. "Please do!"

"…right." Reaching a hand behind him as he groped for the exit, he could feel the cooled, conditioned air hitting his skin, nearly freezing it when only minutes ago it had been hot and burning.

When he finally stumbled out of the store, he found himself fiercely releasing a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding. He bunched his shirt up to mop away the perspiration and when he lowered his shirt once more, he found himself looking back at the building, wondering if that foolish girl was staring after him.

But she wasn't there.

Damn.

Oh, well. It didn't matter. Out of sight, almost instantly out of mind.

He gulped and struggled to get his breath to even out as he slowly began to run. He didn't care that his leg still hurt, didn't care that he looked like a hooligan as he ran past the crowds on the night streets. He had to regain control—meeting Angie had only taken more away.

He couldn't hear any sound around him and he had no idea what time it was either. He had forgotten to wear his watch.

"I don't have time," he grunted, shaking his head as he tried to clear the images of that _idiot _out of his mind. "I don't have time to bother with the likes of you!"

--

**I.**

As the days went on, his leg pain eventually diminished, Angie soon distanced herself from him when she tried to say hi to him one morning and only received a glare in response. Discipline had returned with a vengeance to the forefront of his psyche, and he would have nothing less than perfect order in the academy.

_His movements have become more quiet_, the other prefects commented. _He's become more subtle. More shadowed. More lethal._

And this proved true. Karl had, only a month after his leg incident, dragged Jimmy into Crabblesnitch's office, hissing cold words into the boy's ear that he would never amount to anything. And Karl truly believed that Hopkins would amount to nothing. He could see it; it was written all over Jimmy's face. Hopkins had no discipline—he was nothing more than a filthy monster.

"I'm clearly going places," he said one day to Max (and only Max, for Seth and Edward were thankfully on patrol) as he proudly showed him the _stacks_ of law books he had received from his mother. "One day, I will become the greatest prosecutor in the world."

"And I'll be the greatest detective in the world," Max commented with a grin. Lately, he had been mellowing out, something that Karl found to be a godsend. "So we might work together after we graduate, eh?"

Karl gave his friend a rare smile. "We might, MacTavish. We might. After you grow up a bit, that is."

"HEY! I resent that!"

That evening, when Karl stepped out from the inside of the Boys' Dorm and onto the concrete pavement, he swallowed an aspirin, sucking his mouth in at the familiar, bitter taste, and decided to take a long, meditative walk around the school.

"I'm going to find some troublemakers today."

--

**Before you ask, no, I am not going to update Number One Contender. That story belongs to Divine Desires now, so please check out her awesome profile. No, I will not add any updates to this story, because this is a ONE-SHOT. Probably my last one on this section.**

**Read and review**


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